


My Sunshine

by Jenalop3



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 05:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5079934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenalop3/pseuds/Jenalop3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cuddles and bad singing can soothe even a master assassins soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Sunshine

It had been close. Way to close. They came out victorious of corse, but there had been a price to pay.

The moment the engines of the Quinjet stilled and the gangplank touched the concrete hanger, Natasha had disappeared down the hall and was out of sight. Bruce stumbled tiredly after her, making it only to the door before his arm was caught.

Sam Wilson pulled him carefully back. “Hold your horses, there Cowboy.” He sounded as tired as Bruce felt. Covered head to toe in soot and dirt, his dark eyes were understanding and sad. “Why don't you go up and take a shower, give her a moment.”

Bruce ran his fingers threw his hair, pulling out twigs and dirt. He gazed longingly down the hall after Natasha.

“Yeah I guess.”

Sam gave him a pat on the back, before heading down the hall to his apartments.

After they day they had a shower did sound good. He turned the spray all the way to red and allowed the steam to build in the room before stepping under. He let the scalding water patter down his back, working the post Hulk out knots from his abused muscles.

They haven't had a fuck up this bad in a while. If blame had to be placed it would be placed upon A.I.M., the organization had come out of hiding like the snakes that they were. A.I.M. had taken a page out of Struckers book, and had been experimenting with human enhancement. A code green had been called and the Hulk had appeared in an eruption of dirt and concrete drawing the majority of A.I.M.’s focus as Steve, Natasha, Scott, and Sam infiltrated the building freeing captive after captive.

But despite their best efforts, a self destruct mechanism had been triggered, and the team barely had time to take those they had already gathered to safety. Though they had managed to save many lives that day, many more were lost.

Bruce stayed in the shower until his pink skin became shriveled, and the steam had disappeared. He was slow to leave the sanctuary of tile and glass, bones still sore and mind still heavy. Turning off the faucet he reached for a towel and dried himself off, and fell into a pair of sweatpants and an old Culver tee. He grabbed at an extra sweatshirt and headed out his door.

At the door three down and on the opposite side of the hall from his own, he knocked softly and waited. It took a minute or two and second round of knocking before the door popped open. There on the other side was Natasha, dirt stained and still in her soiled uniform.

He took one look at her a steered her back into her room. Saying nothing she allowed him to pull her into the bathroom and sit her on the edge of the toilet seat. He wet a washcloth with warm water and wiped away at the blood and grime from her cheeks. He cupped her clean face, running the pad of his thumb over her pale cheek. He gave her a quick once over, gently turning her head this way and that, running his fingers through tangled red hair, checking for bumps or cuts.

Finding nothing to serious he helped her to work her uniform off her shoulders and to pull her arms free, letting the garment pool at her waist. He rinsed the cloth and returned it to her, running the warm cloth up and down her arms, over her clavicle and down her back. He checked her for abrasions or lacerations, but found nothing that a quick dab of hydrogen peroxide couldn't help.

She stood and worked her legs free from the uniform, until she stood before him in black practical undergarments. Her face was like stone ready to crack, lips thin and blue eyes stark against hollow smudges. He took her by the face again and placed a comforting kiss to her hair. She leaned boneless against him, pressing her forehead firmly into his lips.

Bruce nudged her gently with his nose and handed her the sweatshirt he had brought with him. She took it, and pulled her head through the hole, popping out the other side in a disheveled red tangle. Flipping off the lights, he climbed into her nest of a bed situating himself among plush pillows and soft fleece blankets. Natasha followed him burrowing herself into his side. He wrapped his arms about her shoulders and buried his nose in her hair.

They laid like that for a long time, she with her face pressed to his breast bone and hands tucked up his shirt drawing patterns on his ribs. And he breathing in the smell of dirt, sweat, smoke, and her light floral perfume. The perfume he knows she dabs just at her wrist and neck every morning, the one he is certain Tony got her one year for Christmas for lack of anything else, the one he absolutely adored on her.

It was quite awhile before she spoke, and when she did it was muffled through a mouthful of threadbare t-shirt.

“It was my job.” He gently ran his hand down her back, letting her know he was listening. “I was supposed to make sure they were offline. That all their power and communications were shut down. And I didn't. I thought I did, but I fucking didn't. They must have had a separate generator for the control room. I should have gone after that, I shouldn't have run off to help, I should have checked and double checked to make sure everything was off. Because of my negligence, people died. Bruce, people died because I was stupid.”

Bruce stroked her back once more, moving his lips to her ear. “The other guy and I should have done a better job of distracting those A.I.M. goons, Cap should have planned for something like this, Scott should have had his ants short circuit the entire facility, Sam should have noticed another control room from his surveillance sweeps. We all made mistakes, but it was always you who would tell us it wasn't our fault and to not get hung up on things that we couldn't have known, that were beyond our control. We made a mistake today, a dreadful mistake, one we will be damn sure won't be repeated. But we also did good, we put a stop to A.I.M., and twenty-five people are now free. We did good, _you_ did good.”

She didn't respond, but she griped him tighter. He squeezed her shoulders in return, and a thought came to him. He remembered his mother, in a quick as lightning thought from his childhood. When he had a bad day, his mother would cradle him in her arms and sing him a sweet song until his tears dried. Kissing her hair once more, he moved so that her hair was no longer in his mouth.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.” His voice was soft and rough. He was off key, but that didn't really matter at the moment. He carded his fingers through her hair, working out the knots.

“You make me happy when sky's are gray.” Natasha’s grip on his shirt loosens a bit, and she shifted off of him so that she could lay her head on his shoulder and watch him with overly bright eyes.

“You'll never know dear how much I love you,” he turned so that he was on his side facing her, eye to eye.

“Please don't take my sunshine away.” He pulled her closer and she pressed her face into his neck, taking in a shaky breath.

He started the song over again, softly singing and humming the childhood tune until he felt her relax little by little against him. Slowly his voice petered out and he followed her into slumber.


End file.
